


Spin The Bottle

by slimeandflamingos



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimeandflamingos/pseuds/slimeandflamingos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Justice plays Spin the Bottle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin The Bottle

It’s just after eleven o’clock when the girls muscle their way back into the mansion (Young Justice’s current and temporary hide-out) with a case of beer and a proposition: “Listen up, boys! Cissie and I want to play a game.”

It takes a few minutes to explain the rules of _Spin the Bottle_ to Kon, to which he is an immediate fan of. He figures he’s immune to alcohol, but it’s not something he’s about to let get in the way of his chances to lock lips with a couple blonde babes. This is the kind of thing _real_ teenagers did; awkward sexual exploration with friends, disguised as a game.

Unfortunately, the girls are only game if _everyone’s_ game.

So, all Kon needs to do is convince Boy Buzzkill to play.

Great.

Should be easy as kryptonite.

 

-

 

“Rob. Al. Li’l buddy. _Please._ Don’t make me beg.” Kon considers it for a moment, then corrects himself. “I’ll beg.”

“Look, kid, if you want to kiss me so bad-“

“I - what? I don’t want to kiss _you._ ”

“Bart, then?” Robin looks smug. He’s standing in front of Kon, his arms crossed, with that self-satisfied smirk on his face; an expression that says, _I’m always right_. And, sure, Rob’s supposed to be a genius (not that Kon would ever admit it to his face), but at this point Kon’s beginning to wonder if he wasn’t bonked in the fucking noggin’. Seriously. Maybe he fell off one of those Gotham rooftops he’s so fond of.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kon says, studying him for signs of injury.

“You know what? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed you were capable of basic math.”

Kon blinks at him. “I get it, we’ve all had a long weekend, but I need you to act like a human be-“

“-says the clone.” Robin’s smirk becomes self-satisfied…ier, and Kon’s frustration is bordering on homicidal. He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a long, suffering breath and reminds himself that Batman is terrifying and would probably take it pretty personal if he hurt one of his bird boys. When Kon finally opens his mouth to speak, Robin interrupts him. “There’s three of us. Two girls. _I_ don’t want to kiss Bart.”

Kon sighs and leans forward, grabs Rob’s shoulders for emphasis, and stares into the white lenses of his mask - hoping and praying that there’s a real teenage boy somewhere behind them. “Spin the Bottle isn’t about who we _don’t_ want to kiss, Al. Maybe you have to kiss a couple Barts! Maybe that’s the price we all have to pay to play a little tonsil hockey with a girl like Cissie. But is it not worth it? Is it not worth it to at least _try?_ ”

“That’s your pitch?”

“Say yes and I’ll let you have total remote control for the rest of the weekend.”

“On _Wendy The Werewolf Stalker_ night?”

Kon’s soul hurts. “Rob, as heroes, sometimes we must make sacrifices.”

 

-

 

Eager to get things started, Kon grabs a hold of an empty bottle (which is surprisingly hard to find: predictably, Rob’s not drinking, Cissie and Cassie have been nursing their second bottles for the last half hour, and Bart’s enthusiastically chugged a couple only to keep the girls company despite the fact that, like Kon, it does nothing for him) and sets it on the floor as his teammates settle into place around him. Cassie sits next to Kon and hands him a beer. He takes it to fit in, not wanting to look like a _total_ square.

That’s Rob’s job, after all. The guy’s _still_ wearing his mask.

Kon shakes his head and pops open his beer (it tastes like joyous youthful rebellion but also like something terrible and bad). “Let’s party.”

Cissie and Cassie clink their bottles together. One of them whistles. Kon takes a spin.

_Hot Blonde. Hot Blonde. Hot Blonde. Hot-_

Bart.

“Well, look, this game’s already getting interesting!” Cassie cheers.

Kon refuses to look at Rob’s stupid face.

Bart, however, perks up and puckers up, seemingly unconcerned with having to swap spit with Kon. Sure, he’s not one of the girls (and he’s definitely not Cissie!), but there are worse people than Bart for Kon to be stuck with. Heck, the bottle could have landed on _Rob_. Batman probably makes him wear poison-laced chapstick just as a precaution.

So, not wanting to give Rob anything else to be smug about, Kon channels all his hopeful teenage lust into courage and leans over to plant a quick kiss on Bart’s lips. It’s short and it scratches a bit (Bart’s lips are dry and he could use a shave), but the girls clap and giggle and Kon feels victorious.

“Alright! Who’s next?” Bart says, spinning the bottle so quickly that it hovers off the ground.

Kon leans back to watch his friends play. After Bart slides across the circle to kiss Cissie (and it’s a real kiss, a good one, with tongue and all the sloppy sounds that Kon has dreamt of for himself) it’s Cissie’s turn. Kon does his best not to look pathetically hopeful and sips at his (totally rank, seriously-what-is-the-appeal) beer; let’s his eyes roam over to Rob, who is playing with some kind of Bat Gadget, oblivious to the game around him. Kon wonders how he does it. If he wasn’t so unironically uncool, Kon would think that maybe he was bluffing, too. For some inexplicable reason, girls were into Rob’s whole _neurotic-and-mysterious_ thing. If Kon had to bet money on it, he figures Rob’s disinterest is the result of some kind of “Bats and the Bees” chat with the Big Guy in Black.

If Kon had ever had to have the sex talk with Batman, he might be traumatized, too.

“Cassie!” Everyone laughs and Kon’s attention returns to the game in time to see both girls pulling apart from each other. “You _way_ overdo it on the lipgloss.”

“Like you don’t!”

Honestly? This game’s not as much fun as Kon had imagined it would be.

Cassie spins and lands on Bart (and it’s _another_ kiss with tongue, Kon cannot believe Bart’s luck). Finally, it’s Rob’s turn to spin and Kon isn’t even surprised anymore when the bottle lands on Cissie. Round one and everyone _but_ Kon has had their turn with her! Even Cassie! Rob has the nerve to not even look excited about it. When they kiss, it’s short and sweet and about as sexual as Kon’s kiss with Bart.

Kon could kill him.

By the end of their peck on the lips, it’s Kon’s turn again. Whatever enthusiasm he had coming into the game is now about as bitter as his beer. Maybe the bottle would land on Cissie, sure, _maybe_ , but at this point Kon’s accepted that luck’s not on his side. So, he spins the bottle, wondering whether he has any chapstick to offer Bart for when it inevitably spins his way.

Except, it’s so much worse than Bart.

It’s _so_ much worse. 

“Holy surprise, Bat _boy_.” Kon spits out, officially no longer a fan of this game. The girls and Bart begin to laugh and somehow Rob still has that stupid look on his face like nothing phases him.

His smug, stupid mouth.

That Kon was going to have to _kiss._

“We could always call it a night.” Rob says, with his stupid, condescending voice; like he knows what Kon’s thinking.

Of course Kon could _call it a night_ , that’s exactly what Rob wants him to do, so he can rush back to his computer and his toys and his little Bat-Diaries, full of Bat-Coded Bat-Secrets. Or whatever other Very Important thing it is that Rob does.

Kon did not give up _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_ for this.

Without thinking, Kon pushes himself up off the ground and marches across the circle towards Rob, grabs him by the cape and yanks him up into a kiss. It’s an awkward angle (Rob’s hands reach up to twist in Kon’s leather jacket for balance, unintentionally pulling him closer), and the kiss is clumsy and rough. When Rob tries to close his mouth, he sucks Kon’s bottom lip between his teeth with a slick, wet sound. Rob’s lips are softer than Bart’s, and Kon bites them back, just to play fair.

Then it’s over.

Kon untangles Rob’s hands from his jacket and returns to his spot on the floor. When he looks up, Rob’s mouth is hanging open and he looks stunned (or as stunned as is possible to look while still wearing a mask). He sits back, feeling better for having wiped the smirk off his face.

It’s enough to get him through the next round. Or, at least, until he spins again and the bottle lands on Bart.

“No offence, Bart, but this game blows.”

 

-

 

Later, after the girls have fallen asleep and Bart’s worn himself out, Rob knocks at the door of the room Kon’s claimed for himself (and Kon knows it’s him, knows he sleeps about as much as Kon needs to). It’s late, way after midnight and Kon’s still in a bad mood.

“Get lost, Al.”

“Open up, or you won’t get your present.”

Kon narrows his eyes. Aside from a time machine (and if anyone could build one, he believes Rob could), there isn’t anything Rob could bring Kon that could improve this, quite frankly, abomination of a weekend. They hadn’t defeated any bad guys and Kon had given up his favourite show to watch every single one of his friends kiss his dream girl instead.

He sighs and stretches his _Tactile Telekinesis™_ from the bed (which he is totally not sulking in), across the floor and up to twist the doorknob open. Rob stands, framed in the doorway, the hall light casting a dark shadow across his face. So, when he steps closer, Kon almost sits up in surprise: Rob’s actually ditched the freaking mask. It’s not like he sleeps in the thing (anymore), but Rob’s actual face (his normal human, acne-free face) never ceases to catch Kon off-guard.

“Don’t get the wrong idea - as nice as it’s to see your baby blues, Rob, it’s not much of a present.”

The slightest of smiles stretches its way across Rob’s face. He tosses something on the bed in front of Kon. “Want to hang out?”

Kon picks up the present. “Is this what I think it is?”

“It’s not a dirty movie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Don’t tease me, Boy Wonder. _Seriously._ Did you record _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?_ ”

"Do you want to watch it or what?" 

Kon bounces off the bed so fast he’s flying.

“Rob, old chum, if I hadn’t already, I’d kiss you.”


End file.
